


Im Licht

by borrowedphrases



Category: TRUMP: True of Vamp - The Origin of the Vampire | Suemitsu Kenichi
Genre: M/M, TRUTH Cast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borrowedphrases/pseuds/borrowedphrases
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a sound by the window that wakes Klauss from his dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Im Licht

**Author's Note:**

> Keep in mind that [F2](http://f2.dreamwidth.org/) hasn't finished subbing the D2 TRUMP DVDs yet, so I've only seen the raws. Characterizations are subject to change once subs are released.

The room is dim, just a small scrap of candle burning out in the bedside chamberstick. The flame flickers, dances, burns a little brighter for a moment, and then fades out as the fuel runs thin. Were he awake, Klauss would tip the last of the wax out into the basin where he keeps the candle scraps. He might set a new candle in the old one's place, cup his hand around the freshly struck match to shield it from the slight breeze making the curtains sway, and get back to the book he was reading.

Instead he rests, dozing on his bed, still wearing his dressing gown, glasses slid down to the end of his nose. His book is open against his lap, one hand resting over the well worn spine. His lips are parted as if sighing, and just the faintest hint of breath moves his chest in a slow, steady rise and fall.

There's a clatter at the window, soft and feline, but enough to stir Klauss from his shallow sleep. He blinks, confused for a moment as to where he is, then slowly his room comes into dull focus. Soft moonlight streams in through the window, and with it an almost blinding radiance.

Allen is crouched on the windowsill, one arm raised above his head, gripping at the bottom of the pane, his other draped over his knees.

"Allen?" Klauss sits up, and fumbles for a moment with his glasses, nearly dropping them. His book tumbles to the floor and he's just about to stand and collect it when Allen moves closer, and stays his reaching hand.

Klauss blinks, and then settles back against his pillows. "How did you get up here?"

There's no ladder made that could reach Klauss' tower, and the stairs are heavily warded, only the other teachers know the secrets that promise a safe and successful passage. Students aren't allowed to wander to his private room, just to his study on the main floor, if they need to chat. Not many do. Klauss imagines Allen climbing his silly rope ladder, rung by rung, all the way to his window. Such a ridiculous thought.

But if anyone could pull it off, it would be Allen.

Allen sets the book down on the bedside, between the dead candle and wash basin. He keeps it open, pages down, mindful of where Klauss left off, then he sits on the edge of the bed, his thigh pressed to Klauss' hip.

Klauss watches, his lips still parted, as the moonlight plays at the angles of Allen's face, giving him the appearance of carefully sculpted ivory. Black hair frames his cheek on one side, the other side gathered up carefully behind his ear. "Allen?"

Allen reaches for his hand, gathering it up carefully and slowly unfolding each of his fingers, spreading them out until his hand is wide open. Klauss' gaze drifts away from Allen's face, watching as cool fingers dance across his palm, along the insides of his knuckles, and over the pads of his fingers. He seems to pay special attention to the callouses left by pens, to the lingering stains of inky pigment.

When Klauss' hand starts to tremble he nearly yanks it away, folding it up again and tucking it back into his long silk sleeve. He looks back up to catch Allen smiling, in that dreamy sort of way he does, and Klauss wonders, bitterly, if he's somehow thinking of Maribelle.

 _Somehow_ , as if there's any question. When wasn't Allen thinking of Maribelle?

Allen shifts, turning from his sitting position until he's half kneeling on the bed. He is closer now, and is propping himself up on one arm, hand resting on the bed on Klauss' opposite side, narrow fingers spread wide and sinking into the downy duvet. 

Klauss hesitates, then rests his hand over Allen's, feeling awkward and out of place in his own movements. Allen's hand is so cold, chilled from the night, and Klauss feels desperate to warm it. 

Allen slides closer, and Klauss feels himself leaning forward, until their noses touch.

"Allen..."

Allen's free hand comes up, delicate fingers cupping Klauss' cheek. His thumb glides lightly, once, just beneath Klauss' eye. Klauss' lips are still parted when Allen's meet them, and he catches Allen's sigh between them, cool as the breeze still drifting in through the window. He tastes Allen's scent on his tongue. He grows dizzy. It feels as if the bed moves beneath them, the tower swaying around them.

The kiss is light, airy, and over before Klauss has time to respond.

There's a sharp clatter by the window, making Klauss jump and wake with a start. His book tumbles from his lap to the floor and his candle tips off the bedside, scattering half solid wax across his rug. He rubs at his knee, though he hasn't fallen, and hisses through his teeth.

A faint jingle draws his attention back to the window.

"Ah, no, _no_ , Allen." Klaus rises from his bed, dressing gown swirling around his ankles, and bends to scoop the cat up off the windowsill. The cat mewls softly when Klauss shifts him to the crook of one arm, wagging a pointed finger at him.

"You mustn't play at this window, Allen," he scolds kindly, shutting the window and latching it carefully. "The fall is much too high for you."

Klauss picks his book up off the floor, placing it back gently in its place on the shelf. He sets the chamberstick back on his bedside, and pushes a fresh candle into the base. Once he has settled back onto his bed, he pulls the fluffy comforter up over his legs, and lets the cat make a nest in the front of his night robe. 

"Don't run away anymore, Allen." Klauss glides a hand over the cat's glossy black head, pleased at the soft purring that answers his gesture. "Stay here with me."


End file.
